Steve's domminion: a villager's tale
by notenufdakka
Summary: Steve goes evilmode and his villagers start plotting against him. Just a short story I wrote for giggles after a minecraft session.


On the seventh day of summer a stranger had appeared in our otherwise peacefully village, he was clad in heavy plate as bright as diamonds and armed with a golden sword. For a long moment he just stood there in the distance, his unnaturally blue eyes shimmering with ambition.

We feared this man, for strangers rarely had any good intentions when they visited our village. We did not bear arms, perhaps we should have. Retrospect never is any aid in the true world where memories mean nothing more than the past.

taking a step forward we just looked at him, judging him. what were these stranger's intentions? Nobody had ever seen or heard from one such as he. Not one had ever seen that particular shade of blue in a man's eyes so we remained distrustful of the man with the fires of ambition burning in his eyes. His eyes burned with a passion, an ambition to build an empire for his own, and we were to be his subjects, willing or unwilling. What would we have done had we know of his intentions back then? Some of us would have welcomed him, others would have shunned him. But we did not know, and all we did was look.

The stranger approached our village, declaring he would construct a building dwarfing our village in no longer than a fortnight. We laughed at him, declaring this to be impossible but some remained fearful, why would one boast he was capable of the impossible?

That night, we retired to our homes, locked our doors and went to bed, hoping the monsters would not come out this night. The stranger, now our guest, had refused the comforts of a home and got to work on his construction.

the next day when we had woken up there was a shadow falling over our homes. Perplexed we donned our clothesand walked outside, where a small crowd was gasping in awe at a giant sloping wall towering over the village where previously there had been nothing but empty air. The stranger had done the impossible and constructed half of a pyramid from midnight black obsidian overnight.

The stranger was not done yet however, and we could clearly see him on top of his construction stripped down to his armoured trousers, his (manly)torso gleaming with sweat as he hauled giant blocks of the heavy material in place. The pyramid was growing at a frightening pace, and the people around us were singing his praises in sheer amazement. I must admit, I was existed myself. If we could convince this god among men to stay here we would never have to worry about the monsters or raiders ever again.

When he at long last descended his half finished pyramid he grabbed a bucket, filled it at the well and emptied it in one giant swig some of our people dared approach him, asking him weather he desired to rule this village in exchange for protection. And he did agree.

We should never have asked him, he was already determined to rule here and now we have none to blame but ourselves for what transpired after this fateful moment.

He returned to his pyramid, vowing to take up rule when it was finished. He remained up there, heaving and building for two more days.

It was done.

His monument to his own power had been completed, carved from the deepest reaches of the earth he constructed powerful magical beacons, infusing them with the power of diamonds, emeralds and other valuable resources. We felt our muscles grow under the influence of these beacons, we felt our skins tightening, becoming tougher and harder to penetrate as well as other less obvious influences. We became stronger, faster, better than we had ever been before, but nothing like the awesome god among men that was this stranger.

He descended his pyramid, an ode to his power, basking in the praises we sung him. And his first declaration as our ruler was that none was to ever climb the pyramid and all return to their houses, preparing for a time of great change.

He did not stop at the construction of this pyramid, he erected a giant, multi- tiered wall of stone allowing for hundreds of our archers to mow down the monsters or raiders long before they could invade our village, supplemented by a moat filled with fearsome liquid fire: lava, before he got to work on repaving the roads and constructing more advanced buildings than the wooden shacks we had lived our lives in before. He replaced torch light with otherworldly materials that lit up the dark and supplied us with expansive farms to gather food from and an extensive arsenal and barracks from where we could defend our new homes. Our population bloomed now, doubled, tripled even.

That is about where the peace had ended.

Dissent grew in our village, with some people starting to question his motives, why had he come here? why did he supply us with weapons? what were his intentions? We didn't even know his name! How could we trust this man with our lives?

The others, fierce defenders of the stranger's presence were furious with this. A year had passed now since the stranger's arrival and several attacks by monsters and raiders alike that had been eradicated had greatly bolstered their spirits. They were more prideful and certain of themselves than ever. That and their aggression had risen dramatically. One did not give man a weapon, show him to defeat his enemies and not expect him to become aggressive.

Fierce and enraged, the "loyalists" attacked the dissidents, few as they might be, this skirmish attracted the attention of the stranger, who demanded to know what was going on and who was responsible. The "loyalists" managed to persuade him to punish the dissidents with death.

No ordinary death for these unfortunates, not ordinarily or quick at all, the stranger constructed a prison for the dissidents while he pondered their fate, and in the end he decided to construct a gruesome contraption designed for execution in an extremely unconventional manner: namely by dropping several anvils on their head and throwing the remains into a pool of lava.

This is when we realized the mistake we had made in allowing this stranger in our village, we might have been poor and weak but at least we had been peaceful, now we lived under an iron fist.

I am writing this now for we must remember what transpired here, if we fail our efforts must not be forgotten, hope cannot die as long as people are still willing to give their lives for the betterment of others. Me and my brothers have gathered here and are planing to overthrow this tyrant, no matter the cost. We have gathered weapons and armour from the barracks where the "loyalists" now have their home and if we are not interrupted tonight, we will march at dawn. Remember us for who we are and why we did it, not what history tells you about us.


End file.
